


The Twilight of the Dawn

by Rae325



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae325/pseuds/Rae325
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka and Helena and love in the face of illness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Twilight of the Dawn

You wake up to the sound of retching; nothing new, heart breaking as always, but part of the routine that you and Myka have established over the months of her treatment. But this time when you kneel down beside her, she feels warm to the touch, and you know that with her immune system beat down that any fever could be a portent of something potentially life threatening.

Myka resists when you insist on taking her to the hospital, argues and yells and then finally cries, and it is the crying that almost makes you relent, but her skin is warm against yours and you aren't taking any changes.

You never imagined that she would deteriorate so rapidly, from arguing with you in the bathroom to stuporous a few hours later. You spend days by her bedside, holding her immobile hand, and pleading, praying – though you don't believe in anything anymore– for Myka to come back to you.

She does. Her eyes blink open in the middle of the night – though day and night make little difference in the cold hospital room. She comes back to you, and you have never been so grateful to see her eyes staring at you. You cry tears of relief and kiss her hand over and over again as the doctor examines her.

* * *

Helena doesn't leave your side. The first hours that you are awake are fuzzy, but then you are alert enough to be conscious of the indignities: the catheter and the bedpan, the vomit on your cheek when you are simply too weak the turn your head. Helena reaches for a cloth the first time you miss the emesis basin, pressing the wet rag to your face, and you use the little strength you have to swat at her hand, to insist that she not touch you.

She abides by your wishes each time you tell her to let the nurse clean you up, to help you use to bedpan, even though you know that Helena would do these things for you in an instant, even though you know that she wants to be the one to take care of you.

The others trickle by the door to your room; the nurse tells you of their presence, Pete first, and then Claudia, followed by Abigail and Steve, Artie, and then Pete again. You turn them away each time. You tell the nurse that you don't want anyone here. You see Helena hold her breath, but even if you can't let her touch you, you don't want her to leave either.

She sits beside your bed and tells you that you are strong and beautiful, and you believe none of it. She asks what she can do for you, and when you don't answer, she simply sits quietly by your side.

Each time you wake you find yourself irrationally angry – you know it's irrational, but you feel it anyway – that Helena is still there. You've resisted her every attempt to hold you, to touch you, to comfort you in any way, but she's here, in the chair she's slept in for days now – you think you must have been here for at least a week, but everything is fuzzy, and the days bleed together. You don't want her to see you like this, to remember you like this, but you aren't strong enough to tell her to leave.

* * *

You wake up to see Myka staring at you, and she looks more lucid than you have seen her since you called the ambulance nine days ago. You smile at her, at green eyes that somehow are still bright, even as her skin is stretched too tightly over her bones and her lips are cracked and lined with blisters.

You want to speak but feel paralyzed by doubt. There seem to be no right words, and you are thankful that she allows you to remain by her side, as you cannot bare the idea of her being alone in this room with it's too bright lights and the smell of antiseptic.

You watch tears fall down her cheeks, and you know that she needs something more from you, even if she can never bring herself to ask.

"I love you Myka," you tell her. "I love you, and even if you don't want me to touch you, I need you to remember that I love you."

She turns her face from yours, and you watch the tears fall faster and faster. She wipes furiously at her eyes, shakes her head, you think in anger at herself for crying.

"My darling Myka. I wish that you could see yourself as I do. You are so very strong and beautiful and brave."

* * *

She calls you her Myka, but her Myka, your Myka, the only Myka that you ever wanted to be, was a woman who was strong and independent. And the woman that you are now is weak and pathetic, and you can barely stand to be in her skin.

"I love you," Helena whispers again, her fingers tentatively weaving between yours. You squeeze her hand, making her smile and tug gently until you turn back and meet her eyes. "I'm not going anywhere Myka."

You nod and watch her grow brave. Helena's hand strokes your cheek, and you press your face into her palm. She looks so very grateful. "My darling Myka," she repeats, her voice full of wonder and love.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but she shakes her head.

"May I hold you?" Helena asks, and you know that she sees in your eyes how much you long for her touch.

"Please," you whisper, your voice betraying your desperation for her.

She lies beside you, pulls you into her arms easily. You barely spare a thought for how easily she can lift you now, how small and fragile you feel. You let her hold you, and it feels like a comfort that you've needed every day in this bed. And you don't know if it is a weakness or a strength to surrender your pride, but you do know that Helena wants nothing from you but this chance to take care of you and love you. You let her.


End file.
